More Fantasy World
Well, actually, some of my characters do find themselves cooking and cleaning. But it’s more fun to leave the mundane things behind and write the love scenes.
Here’s a scene from The Sultan’s Revenge, my newest novella from amberheat.com. Rima, a captive princess, is the sultan’s bondservant. Her shoulder has been bruised and he takes her to his private quarters to treat the injury. As a romance reader, you know there’s bound to be a little—hanky panky ☺.
Here’s part of what happens:
Now he slipped behind her, moved her fall of hair, bound in a plain cord, to the right side of her neck, and stroked more scented oil across her upper spine and left shoulder.
Fighting her almost helpless attraction to Khalid, she said, “My Lord Sidi, I sustained no injury on—”
In a low, rich voice, he said, “It is written to have balance in all things.”
“Yes. Balance,” she agreed, caught once more in the spell of this tender warrior.
His warm breath flowed across her skin—already sensitized by the fragrant oil. His strong thumbs and fingers kneaded and pressed into tight muscles, loosening and soothing away knots of tension. As her pain disappeared, she became more aware of Khalid’s vibrant body only inches from hers. A slow heat pooled in her lower belly. A hungry pressure grew between her thighs—one she’d felt before at Khalid’s touch; one that had left her aching for relief; one she had instinctively known, then and now, only he could ease—could satisfy.
Helplessly, her head tipped back.
“Better?” he asked, both hands cupping her shoulders.
She licked her lips, trying to formulate an answer, while her tongue felt too heavy to say a word.
“Rima”—he pressed a lingering kiss on the back of her neck—“your skin is like living silk.”
Any words she might have said were lost in a heady rush of desire.
With a knowing chuckle, he moved around the bench, and once more knelt, facing her.
She stared into his black eyes where flecks of silver shimmered in their depths. In the past, his eyes had seemed devoid of emotion. Now they blazed with passion—and strangely—a hint of need. In a flash of insight, she realized this great sultan, who ruled a wild land and led hard, disciplined warriors, wanted her, not just as a sex object, but more.
She lay her palm on his cheek and felt the ripple of muscles tensing under her touch. “My lord, my sidi, yes,” she said, “touch me. Teach me the reality of the sterile lessons I learned from the Keeper of the Flame.”
Moments passed as he studied her. The only sound in the room was the crackle of flames in the fireplace. Khalid’s gaze swept over her with a slow, hot force that heated her blood.
“Touch you?” he muttered, slowly drawing one finger across her lower lip.
“Teach you?” He cradled her bare breasts in his hands as if they were the most precious gifts in the world.
Fire licked across her arms and down her body. Her lips yearned for his mouth. Her body trembled with the need to make love with him.
As she gazed into his dark eyes; felt the hard strength of his fingers carefully holding her tender beasts, the realization burst into her mind.
By the great Mother of Creation, I’ve fallen in love with my enemy.
Writing as April Reid